Between Redemption and Ruin
by TexIn1880
Summary: The story of a man trapped between salvation and damnation. The story of Lindsey McDonald and the pivotal moment of his life. Majority of story takes place between Dead End and That Vision Thing.
1. The Omega and the Alpha

**Author's Note: First off, massive apologies for my disappearance. To say it has been a whirlwind summer would be an understatement. Second, for those who still remember _Last Stand in Open Country_, I'm sad to say that the story has been put on a hold. After rereading it, there are some rather large holes in the story, and the ending just couldn't shape up the way I planned. I'm tweaking it, but I've run into a major case of Block, so we'll take it one step at a time. I promise though it will be concluded.**

**As for this story, I really owe the idea behind it to Imzadi. I myself am big Lindsey fan, and seeing as how I grew up in the same area as the character, I figured I'd give a crack at casting light on the man's past. That's taken care of within the first couple of chapters and may seem a bit short, sorry if that's the case. The second idea behind this story is to explain why Lindsey came back to LA in season five with such hatred of Angel, after leaving on good terms in season two. This is my idea of what happened.**

**Italics in the first part denote actual dialogue from "Not Fade Away". I own none of the Joss-verse characters, only the original ones not in canon, which should be pretty easy to distinguish. As always, reviews are like cold beers. Always enjoyable.**

* * *

Lindsey turned the left faucet counterclockwise until it locked and watched as a small trickle of water began to pour from the spout. Quickly he began to scrub the fresh demon blood from his hands. The irony of the situation had not escaped him. This was not the first time he had washed someone else's blood from his hand, neither figuratively or literally. However, it was the first time he had done so as a white hat. Try as he might, he couldn't hide the small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, nor could he hide the smug tone of voice with which he addressed his green counterpart.

_"Those guys were chumps," _he remarked without turning from the sink.

_"Now they're chunks. Demon strength or no, you're quite the master swordsman."_

_"Well, I couldn't have done it without that high note in MacArthur Park." _

_"Slays 'em every time." _

_"Any word on the rest of the team?"_

_"For all I know, we are the rest of the team. I haven't heard squat." _

_"That's weird." _

Lindsey turned the water off and reached for a nearby towel.

_"They'll call."_

_"No, I mean me saying "team" and meaning it. I kind of like the feeling."_

Lindsey smirked at his reply, folded the towel and merely dropped it to the ground. He really did enjoy being a part of _the team._ It had been along time since he had felt like he was a part of _anything._ Ever since that day... and... _them..._

_"Yeah, today."_

_"You really done with them?"_

_"It isn't my kind of work anymore. It's unsavory."_

_"Gee, I think it's just getting interesting."_

_"Yeah, I bet you do."_

_"You don't trust me. You don't think a man can change?"_

_"It's not about what I think. This was Angel's plan."_

_"Come on. I could sing for you."_

Angel had already told Lindsey he needed him, and though it was a terrible way to phrase the request, Lindsey had assumed Angel was offering a truce. Besides, the Empath had always had a sort of liking for Lindsey anyway, albeit on a purely musical level.

_"I've heard you sing," _Lorne stated plainly.

With that, the Empath reached into the inside breast pocket of his leather overcoat, pulled a silenced pistol and leveled at Lindsey's chest. Before the man could react, Lorne eased the trigger back, firing two shot at point blank range. The first landed in the chest, just below the collarbone. The second hit home in the lawyer's abdomen. To the man's credit, he didn't go down. He simply stared at the former lounge owner with a face full of both shock and horror._  
_  
_"Why—why did you..."_

Was all Lindsey could rasp out. Reality had yet to register within his brain. He _couldn't_ have been shot by the Empath!

_"One last job. You're not part of the solution, Lindsey. You never will be," _was Lorne's reply, laced heavily with both malice and sorrow.

_"You kill me?" _Lindsey grimaced, almost more of a shocked question than an accusation. Head dizzying, he stumbled back against the wall. He felt his knees buckle as he slowly slid down to the floor. Everything was slowing now. The image before him was a blurred mass with only a single green blob noticeable from the now darkening surroundings.

_"A flunky! I'm not just... Angel...kills me. You don't... Angel..."_

The babbling was all Lindsey could mutter before the encroaching darkness came for him. Realization was a cold slap in his face. He was about to die. Killed by the least likely of things. A karaoke lounge owner. And as he expected, death was not going to come quick. His body was failing, but his mind and soul, what was left of it, were still struggling. Lindsey knew what was to come next. You didn't spend time with Wolfram and Hart as a top dog lawyer and not know that the kaleidoscope show that was your life would flash before your eyes when you died. In fact, he was expecting it.

* * *

It was a cold, wind blown day across the vast plains of the north Texas panhandle. But then again, the wind always blew in this part of the world. And, when winter hit, it was always going to be cold. However, this day was worse than others. Lindsey McDonald stared across the open plains with an ache in his heart. Two weeks prior, they had just buried a brother and a sister. To most people, influenza was nothing more than a minor hassle... an inconvenience of sorts, easily avoidable with immunizations. But the McDonalds were not _most_ people. They were a poor family, scraping by on bare essentials. They couldn't even afford plumbing, much less immunization shots for six children. Influenza had taken his brother and sister from him. Not able to even afford a funeral, they were simply buried under an old mesquite tree behind the hovel that passed as a house. Laid to rest next to the simple wooden post that doubled as a headstone for Audrey McDonald, the matriarch of the family who had succumbed to the same illness not two years prior. But that was the mere beginning of the problems Lindsey would face on this day.

David McDonald was a poor man. Worse, he was a foolish man. Settling down on his own family farm had always been a dream, but dreams are often shattered in a place as desolate as northwest Texas. Unable to find any sort of well paying employment following his marriage, David had turned to the bottle. He worked hard labor for a poor man's wage, sharecropping a season here or there, driving fenceposts or digging ditches when the harvest season had ended. He was illiterate, and had no desire to change his situation. As soon as his children were of age, he rented them out to nearby farmers or worse, the newly forming agribusiness elite from the North. They were massive expanses of farmland, owned by a company or wealthy individual. They primarily grew one crop, and the bottom line was the only concern. Like all businesses, they were interested in cheap input while maintaining a profiting output. Lindsey had been sent to work on one such place when he reached the age of five. It was an illegal practice, but in a place like this, money talked and the law walked. What was worse, the money Lindsey _earned _went directly to his father, just to cover any bases concerning the legal code. And of course, that money went to anybody with a still who knew they could grossly overcharge David McDonald for nothing more than liquid poison. It was an endless cycle. Until now.

Turning back to the hovel he despised, Lindsey watched with riveted eyes as his father, grinning like a Cheshire cat, shook two men's hands and laughed. He was obviously drunk. The men secretly wiped their hand on their dark blue jeans, patted the drunkard on the back, and gave a thumbs up signal. The large yellow beast idling on the west side of the house roared into life and pushed forward, reducing Lindsey's home to toothpicks in one single run. Their home was resting on the site of a newly envisioned stock yard. It had to be removed. And Lindsey sat and watched as his father bellowed and laughed, almost on the verge of breaking out into dance. And Lindsey couldn't understand it. This was all they had known. And it meant nothing to his father. Lindsey didn't even want to envision what would happen to the graves. No doubt they would be dug up, the bodies disposed of by fire, and the area cleared for the stock yard. You couldn't have the decay and pestilence of a human corpse interfering with ground nutrients of a stock yard. It might affect the bottom line. If if the bodies were beloved family members. His only solace was the firm set of hands resting on his shoulders. Department of Human Services had finally come to call. As one would imagine, David McDonald was found to be seriously lacking in the parenthood department. What was worse, the man did not seem to care. The look of joy on his face brought Lindsey's blood to a boil. This... _thing_ could not be human. It didn't deserve to be human. His four remaining children were to be placed in the State's custody, to be sent to separate adoption agencies or orphanages. They were to be forever separated from one another and the life they had been subjected to. Lindsey could only hope it would be better than what he had already been forced to endure.

* * *

And so life went forward for Lindsey McDonald. He bounced from one orphanage to the next, few parents interested in raising a gangly dirt poor boy that many feared had repressed issues concerning authority. Again, Lindsey could not understand. He never lashed out at authority, in sense of the word. In fact, he embraced it. He could easily recall how the _law_ worked in his previous life. And he wanted the power that came with being able to choose when and where the law applied. But he didn't simply want it... he craved for it. He had long since abandoned the idea of trying to make a difference. The world was too cruel in his eyes. You had to look out for yourself if you wanted to survive. Otherwise, you were simply a waste. But parents were reluctant. Especially when they were told of his childhood. A child subjected to such brutality would no doubt vent his anger on whomever decided to fill the role of parent. And as for discipline? That would probably be a nightmare unto its own. But even now, fate had different plans for Lindsey McDonald.

Finally, the call came on his tenth birthday. An aging socialite couple from California had taken an interest in young Lindsey. Like many, they had their concerns about the boy. But unlike the others, they were willing to meet the lad in person. Lindsey did not fail to entertain. Taught to read by his mother by kerosene light, Lindsey's mind was razor sharp. He was witty and had a rare knack for solving problems, even when those problems were years beyond his limited academic standing. The socialites were indeed impressed, and Lindsey was soon whisked away to a plush home in the bustling metropolis that was Los Angeles, a prince ready to be placed up his newly fashioned throne.

* * *

The rest of his life passed like a blur. Entered into a private school, Lindsey quickly excelled. He graduated as Valedictorian and accepted a full ride scholarship to UCLA. Three years later, he became one of the youngest applicants to be accepted into UCLA's prestigious law school. The sky was the limit. And when an internship with the esteemed Wolfram and Hart was dropped in his lap, Lindsey jumped on it. Taking the horse by the reins, he didn't look back. Within four years he was a full time employee at Wolfram and Hart, working his way up the corporate ladder with a tenacity few could have envisioned, and even fewer could have matched. The work itself did not bother Lindsey to much degree. He held little fear of demons, having been seemingly raised by one the first five years of his life. His adopted parents had once broached the subject of changing his name in hopes of erasing the painful memories it might stir in their new 'golden boy'. Lindsey would have none of it. The name was a reminder of where he had come from, and more importantly, _what_ he had come from. It was his driving force. Until a fateful day when his client was launched through a window by a vampire with a soul. 


	2. New Hope

**Probably a shorter chapter than the first, but I wrote them as one and decided to split them up. The following chapters will most likely involve more dialogue and more action, so bear with me on updates. Hopefully a few days. Anyhow, enjoy.**

* * *

Lindsey's mind clicked into overdrive. There was always a reason for these jogs down memory lane before you met whatever awaited you on the other side. More often than not, it was to show you a pivotal moment in your life. A moment where a different decision or a different reaction could alter not only the course of your own life but the course of others around you. Lindsey knew exactly where he was headed.

* * *

It was immediately following his departure from Los Angeles. His conscience had finally reared its ugly head, and the craving for power had to take a backseat to better judgment. He had lied to himself the first time he wanted to quit, claiming that once he ran the show, acts like the murdering of innocent children would be expressly prohibited. Then came the loss of his hand, then Darla, then the massacre, and then... then came the suffering he saw others endure for him to move up in the world. It sickened him to no end. He drew the line right then and there. He was leaving the City of Angels, or Angel, depending on how you looked at it, and was heading back into the great unknown. He was out to find Lindsey McDonald the man... not the power hungry child.

He found himself in a small dust blown town in Nevada, following his grand exit out of Los Angeles after being pulled over not once, not twice, but three times on his way east. The first time, he attributed it to bad luck. The second time, he thought it was a reminder from the Senior Partners that _no one_ walks away from Wolfram and Hart. Finally, after the third ticket, the officer informed him of the lovely banner gracing the back of his pickup. He simply shook his head and smiled. Angel always had to have the last word. It was no matter, he had no intention of paying the fines anyway. He was going to disappear. After everything, the Firm owed him that much at least.

He decided to settle down in Smalltown X in western Nevada. He didn't even bother to catch the name. The less he knew about this place, the safer he thought he would be. The town fit him like an old worn glove. Unlike most small towns, no one asked questions here. Big plus. He once surmised that it might be a hiding place for mob informants on the run. It was the perfect place to disappear in. Bigger plus. He took up working in the local bar, serving drinks on the side, but mainly performing at night. He was a hit with the local townspeople. What could he say? The man had one helluva voice. The pay was peanuts, but money wasn't much of a concern anymore. He got a small amount of joy from the applause he was basked in every night, but he found himself still lacking. Then, he met _her.

* * *

_

She was a short barmaid, with shoulder length chestnut hair and the bluest eyes he had ever stared into. The first night he met her he was sold. Her name was Denise, and like most small town barmaids, she had a story. She was twenty five and a single mother, on the run from an abusive boyfriend back in Oklahoma. Like Lindsey, she had simply wanted to disappear. Find a quiet place to raise her three year old daughter and try and forget the nightmares of a past life full of mistakes and unwarranted violence. Lindsey was smitten from the get go, and so was she.

* * *

If Lindsey's cold corpse could smile, it would have. She always had that effect on him. He loved her with everything he had, her and her daughter Lizzie. He found his redemption in those pools of pale blue, and he knew that within them he could rinse his soul clean of his past sins and find true happiness. She was what he wanted... what he needed... what he _craved. _And then came the attacks. Random at first. A bar straggler dead here, a late night clerk there. Lindsey, like most of the townspeople first attributed the murders to the mob. Hell, it _was_ plausible. But then came the reports of mauled and bloodless victims. All in all, ten victims had been discovered in the span of a month. Then, Denise was attacked after work one night. Lindsey, watching two shadows simultaneously leap in front of her from the alley, raced to the defense. The two turned out to be merely purse snatchers of the mortal variety, but the attack struck too close to home. This was no coincidence. This was the Senior Partners. They weren't going to let Lindsey walk away. They had simply sat back and waited for him to find happiness, and now they were letting him know they had every intention of stripping him of it. No one crossed the Senior Partners... _no one..._ especially not an adopted dirt poor kid from Texas. Terrified for the life of his new love and his new 'daughter', Lindsey loaded up his old pickup truck and drove back west. Back to Los Angeles. Back to a place where he knew both Denise and Lizzie could be protected...

* * *

"The Hyperion Hotel," Denise read off as the truck eased to a stop. "How are we going to be safe here?"

"I know a guy who err... runs the place... among other talents," Lindsey replied carefully.

He had no intention of telling her that this 'man' was actually a mass murdering vampire who had been cursed with a soul. Hell, he had never truly told her why they had been hauled into Los Angeles in the dead of night in the first place. It was only a mugging she had said, but Lindsey knew better. He refused to tell her about his past, so he simply told her that an old mistake of his had found him, and that they had to get some place safe because they were all in danger. He sealed the deal with a 'trust me' and Denise simply smiled and said 'okay'. She always did.

"Do they have a pool?" little Lizzie inquired excitedly. Lindsey simply smiled.

"I'm not sure sweetheart, we'll just have to find out."

Looking up at the entrance, Lindsey felt a wave of dread sweep over him. He wasn't supposed to come back to this town. He was supposed to stay gone. He had been warned to stay gone. But desperate times called for desperate measures... and desperate allies. With a slight squeeze of Denise's hand, Lindsey let out a sigh and opened the door.

"Let's go drop in for a visit..."

* * *

"I'm serious Angel!" Cordelia whined as she placed her hands on her hips. "She _has_ to come down and get to know... y'know... the world!"

"Look Cordy, Fred just needs..." Angel began, only to be cut off.

"And besides, do you know how ridiculous it is to slide a full bag of tacos under the door... one at a time!"

"You have to understand what the girl has been through Cordelia... besides, why would you not simply open the door and hand Winifred the entire bag," came a clipped British response. Wesley took a sip of his tea before sitting the mug down on the countertop and eyeing Cordelia thoughtfully.

"Duh! I've tried like... a million times! It's always locked! She'll only answer if the _Handsome Man_ knocks," Cordelia replied, batting her eyes seductively Angel's way to accentuate the words 'Handsome man'. If Angel could have, he would have blushed.

"I swear, she acts as if I'm some sort of wi... ughhh..."

"Cordy!" Angel looked up to his Seer begin wobbling before Wesley sprinted behind her and caught her fall. At the same instant he heard the door to the hotel open and catch the scent of who had just entered.

_"It can't be..."_ Angel though silently.

"What did you see Cordelia," Wesley inquired, not noticing that Angel was uncharacteristically quiet concerning the latest vision.

"Whew... uhmmm... vampires... lots of them... a little girl and her mom... and..."

"Lindsey," came the snarl from across the countertop.

"How did you..." was all Cordelia could manage before her vision fixated on the figure that stood in the foyer.

With one hand enduring Lizzie's vice grip and the other squeezing Denise's for one last shot of courage, Lindsey eyed the scene with a slight smile.

"Hi Champ. Got room for a couple a' clients?"


End file.
